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by peanutbutterandbananasandwichs



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 18:19:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3218768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peanutbutterandbananasandwichs/pseuds/peanutbutterandbananasandwichs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jess finds there is more to heaven than just her memories...</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> Written for SamJess Week on Tumblr

They say heaven is made of memories. Your “greatest hits”, all the best moments your life had to offer. But in truth, it’s more complicated than that. For heaven is not the construct of man, but of God, of angels, of creatures whose concepts of time and reality are rather more fluid than most.

Not everyone finds them, the other memories, the one’s that shimmer, flicker, flitting in and out, just on the edge of sight. Children usually find them first, the one’s for whom there are the fewest memories on which to build their heavens’. For them the flickering lights and whispered voices are brighter and louder.

It takes Jess a little longer. The first time she notices them she’s laying in bed with Sam, curled up in his lap, Sam’s fingers running idly through her hair. The sunlight filters through the window, soft and warm, making her skin hum and casting a light around him that seems almost ethereal. There’s not a sound but the sighs of their breathing, as their chests rise and fall in perfect harmony and the occasional flick of a page turning in their respective books. Or at least there shouldn’t have been. Jess has lived this memory a thousand times, she knows every intimate detail, the way the shadows and light play across Sam’s face, highlighting his cheekbones, the shimmer in his eyes when he glances down at her and the way his dimples flash and forehead crinkles just so when he catches her glancing up at him. But she can hear something. It’s faint, like a sound half forgotten, but she listens intently straining to make out the noise. Laughter. Bright and sweet and full of life.

Jess rises from the bed, Sam continues to read, hand moving through hair that is no longer there. She looks towards the door. For a second she sees her, the little girl with golden hair and eyes like sunflowers, she peeks her head round the door frame, giggling, all too familiar dimples creasing her checks. She shimmers, insubstantial as smoke, flickers and is gone. Jess glances back at Sam, he hasn’t moved, of course he’s not really there, just an echo, caught in an endless loop. She steps through the door.

At first it’s like walking through mist and the brightest white sunlight, nothing has clear form, but she can make out shapes moving in the distance and hear the muffled voices of a thousand conversations all around her. She catches a flash of long, blonde tresses and a sound louder, more distinct than the others “come on mommy!” The little face turns back to her, smile bright as the sun and she stops, waits for Jess to come to her. Jess approaches, staring in wonderment, she knows that smile, those eyes and the gentle earnestness in her voice. A small, chubby hand is extended out toward her, Jess takes it and suddenly it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

The girl turns back, leading Jess through the mist, she’s solid now and firm, no longer the dancing, flickering thing of light and smoke. There’s a door ahead. Jess hesitates for a moment, then pushes it gently. There’s a room on the other side, she looks around. There is her mother’s old sofa she promised to her for when they got a real place of their own, it was worn and slightly threadbare, but nothing was more comfortable for cuddling up with a book and a hot mug of tea. And that’s the bookshelf they’d spotted in the charity shop and had been planning on buying, they’d run out of space in their old one and even if they hadn’t, it was quite possibly the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, tall and slender, warm beechwood and the little dragons carved into the corners. And there’s a dog, curled up asleep on the rug in the centre of the room, she’s never seen it before, but she’d recognise her anywhere, they’d talked about her every day for a month, imagined what she’d be like and she was there. The little hand wriggles out of hers and there is a blur of movement as the tiny form darts forward, exclaiming “daddy!” as she throws herself into the arms of the tall, dark haired man who’d been resting against the wall by the door to the kitchen. He spins her, twirling her through the air, matching dimpled grins breaking across both their faces. He turns to face her.

Years later, she’s sitting, waiting on the wall outside the their favourite coffee shop on campus, the sunlight playing in her hair. She knows he’s coming, and this time, it’s for real, there’s no going back. No-one left to wrench him away.

Jess hears the sound of slow padding footsteps behind her, she turns. She knows that face, there are more lines, a couple of small scars she’s never seen, a few more grey hairs at the temple, the eyes are sadder, than the one’s she knows. She can fix that.

He runs to her, cradles her face for a moment, thumb running gently over her cheek, small smile of wonderment and adoration, some things never changed. And then their lips meet and it’s soft, loving, passionate and searing all at once. They finally pull back, resting their foreheads lightly together, Jess links her fingers through his.

She turns, leading him back toward the doorway. He stops, looking down at her “where are we going?” Jess smiles up at him, “Sam, I’m taking you home.”


End file.
